all that you are (is all that i'll ever need)
by bluestoplights
Summary: Modern AU / It's really difficult to figure out you're in love with your best friend if you've never known what it's like to be in love in the first place.


_**A/N: A best friends to lovers AU vaguely inspired by that tumblr post talking about how there needs to be more love stories about people who have never been in love. I wish I could find that post so I could give it proper credit! If you find it, let me know. As per usual, this oneshot is Amber's fault and I'm mad about it.**_

 _ **(She's a great beta and I love her and her inspiring writing, okay.)**_

 _ **Hope you enjoy!**_

 _ **-/-**_

Emma has always been alone.

There are moments where she almost wasn't, romantically, though. There was the time when she was seventeen and stole a stolen yellow Volkswagon, her fellow thief charming and cheerful. Neal - he introduces himself - offers to buy her a drink.

Emma declines and it sticks.

There's something about that Bug. A few years later - after working dead end job after dead end job - she winds up buying one the same shade of yellow. It's used and it's cheap, and that's all she needs at the moment. Emma likes yellow and she likes that car.

Not that it was currently being shown any respect, eleven years later.

"Aren't you glad we do things like this, Swan?" Killian asks, a grin on his lips and glee in his stare as he props his shoes up, lazily, on her dashboard.

Emma rolls her eyes exaggeratedly, swatting his boots so they don't ruin the interior of her Bug (he pouts, but his feet slide back down to where they're meant to be). "You making my job harder for me?"

"You say you're always busy with work," he proffers, arms wrapping behind his neck as he struggles to find the space to strength in her cramped car. "Forgive me if I have to find time to spend with you while you're on schedule."

"You could have blown my cover," she points out, unimpressed.

"Could have," he emphasizes, sounding incredibly pleased with himself. "But I didn't."

Emma sighs. "One day you're going to get me into trouble. And I'm going to have to kick your ass."

"And yet, you always text me the address of where you are when I ask," he drawls, lips curving into a smile. "Admit it, Swan, you just enjoy being in my presence."

"You're the one who came with food at midnight to talk to me while I worked," she points out, bluntly.

His laugh is a little forced, but she'll blame it on the exhaustion he must be feeling at the time of night.

Emma frowns in concern, thinking of just how tired he must be. He can bluster all he wants, but all the black eyeliner in the world won't cover up the dark circles underneath his eyes. Winter - for whatever reason - is the busiest month for him, and if she knows him he's been working at the docks since the early morning hours. Her eyes flicker to where her bail skipper is meant to leave at any moment, then back to Killian who looks as if he's about to start snoring, jolting up every few seconds in a desperate attempt to stay awake.

"You should sleep," she tells him.

"So should you," he retorts.

"I took a nap before coming up here. You obviously didn't."

"My neighbors always get rather cantankerous when I come home in the wee hours of the morning."

"Then you can crash at my place," she says noncommittally, "it's not like it would be the first time."

"I'm quite sure I do the majority of your grocery shopping," Killian points out, head lolling to the side in her passenger seat as he looks at her from underneath his eyelashes, ever the dramatist. "So I dare say I have become accustomed to your place of residence, Swan."

"Yeah, because when we got drunk in that weird, Alice in Wonderland themed bar you bitched and moaned the next morning about how you weren't sure how I survived off of nothing but grilled cheese and microwavable meals."

"I'm still not quite sure how you managed it," he pouts. "Honestly, how you don't have the cholesterol levels of a 55 year old man is a mystery to me. I have to keep you from having a heart attack. It's not ideal to go through cardiac arrest at 28 because you-"

He babbles when he's tired. He babbles when he's awake, too, but especially when he's tired.

But she'll entertain him, nevertheless. "And yet, you end up eating all of the food you buy, so it's pretty much pointless."

"I do your cooking sometimes and force you to eat a real meal," he grumbles. "After that incident when you almost burnt down the apa-"

"That was one time!"

Killian chuckles, at that. "I have to look after you, somehow."

"Well, then," she says, matter-of-factly, "let me look after you and get you home to sleep. You need it."

"Aren't you still waiting for your scoundrel to make an appearance?" he mutters, gesturing to the door that he's meant to walk through at any moment.

Emma shrugs, unconcerned. "Haven't you been working longer shifts at the docks lately? You shouldn't be depriving yourself of more sleep. The embezzler can still be caught tomorrow."

"You're an incredible woman, Emma Swan."

"Don't I know it," she says in a deadpan.

-/-

By the time they get to her apartment and Killian changes to the spare pair of pajama pants he always keeps on hand, he virtually collapses when she directs him towards her bed. It's not until she comes out of the bathroom after changing that he seemingly realizes where he is in her apartment.

"S'you're bed," Killian argues, barely able to keep his eyes open.

"Like I said, I already slept."

"You're tired," he observes, cracking one eye open at her. "Sleep."

"I'm fine," Emma reassures him.

Before promptly yawning.

He tugs her down to him with a plaintive sigh, burying his nose in her hair and wrapping his arms around her midsection. She groans, but runs her hands up and down his back nonetheless.

"I can take the couch," Emma contests, though it's mainly lip service by this point.

"You're warm," he replies, as if this is the most eloquent reasoning in the world. "I'm cold."

Infallible logic. "I can get you more blankets or turn up the heat, you know."

Killian shakes his head with a hum, one of his hands coming up to thread in her hair as she rests her head on his chest. "This is better. We've shared before."

"Because the hotel that Ruby convinced us to stay in when we went on vacation with her only had one bed," Emma grumbles, not nearly as irritated as she's making herself sound. She grabs the comforter and tugs it over them.

"Please," he scoffs, the sound muffled and slurred by just how exhausted he must be. "Hardly the only occasion we've ended up like this. How many times have you drifted off at my place? Or have I drifted off at yours? I still remember…"

His words trail off and she can hear his breathing even as his chest comes up and down under her ear.

"Do you keep like a mental tally of every time we cuddle, or something?" she asks skeptically, quietly. It's an effort to see if he's awake, but when he doesn't reply it's become obvious Killian is out cold.

Emma props her chin up on his chest, watching him for a moment as he slumbers. His eyes are closed, his prosthetic is resting on her back, and his hand sliding down to her shoulderblades with her movement. Killian really needed sleep, from the looks of it. She'll be sure to tell him she told him so, later. Right now, though, she finds her eyes drooping and he's the one who's warm and comfortable.

She chased down Killian when he skipped bail years ago and Ruby was the one to bail him out. A sad origin story to her first honest friendships, but an accurate one nonetheless. Killian was one of the most evasive assholes she'd ever had to track down. Ruby was endlessly charming. Combined, they were unstoppable. And, also, apparently the type of people to invite the bail bondsperson that just sent one of them back to court out to lunch after Killian miraculously managed to evade jail time (or even probation) for stealing.

Emma doesn't understand their weird friendship, either. But it's stuck, even years after. Killian went on a path more towards the straight and narrow, picking up a job at the docks and becoming more or less a law-abiding citizen. Ruby went from waitressing to working at the animal shelter. Emma stayed with bail bonds, and, well, she's never been able to get rid of either of them.

This is what she says, anyway.

-/-

"Morning, Swan," Killian greets from her kitchen, using the goddamn waffle iron he bought at a garage sale that somehow ended up at her place.

Emma shakes her head, bemused at the familiar sight.

They eat, battling over the whipped cream and making a general mess that Killian - ever the neat freak - looks aghast at.

"I'm gonna stop by Granny's," she tells him as he tries valiantly to get chocolate syrup from the wood of her table. "Pick up some coffee. You can take a shower while I'm out, do you still have -"

"Spare clothes in the fourth drawer?" Killian finishes her sentence. "I do."

"I can give you a ride back to your car when I get back," Emma offers, zipping up her jacket and toeing on her boots. "See you in ten minutes?"

"Indeed you will," he grins, leaning down to quickly press his lips to her cheek. "Drive safe."

-/-

She orders hot chocolate with cinnamon for her, black coffee for him. Emma has this memorized, by now. Ruby must overhear her while she's getting her own breakfast, given she quickly edges up behind Emma.

"Ordering for two?" Ruby teases, a suggestive lilt in her voice. "My, my, Emma, I never thought I-"

"Killian," Emma says, by way of explanation. "He was dead on his feet when he crashed my stakeout, so he slept over at mine."

"Now that I think about it," Ruby ponders aloud, chewing on her bottom lip as she stares at Emma for a moment. "I've never seen you with anyone in the years I've known you."

Emma swallows, hard, grappling with how to reply without making herself look pathetic. "I'm good at keeping my private life private."

That's always been easier to say than relationships are hard and she doesn't want to bother with them - it's difficult enough for her to maintain friendships. Relationships? Out of the question entirely. She's so acclimated to being alone that this doesn't really bother her, anymore.

Ruby frowns, expression dubious at best. "That private? From your best friends?"

Emma rolls her eyes, exasperated. "And expose any potential romantic interests to the inquisition you and Killian would put them through? Yeah. Right."

"You know, I'd be okay if you were into girls," Ruby suggests candidly, tilting her head to the side.

"I'd hope so," Emma replies quickly, "Or else that'd be an awkward conversation to have with your girlfriend."

Ruby's mouth twitches at that. "Everyone could use a Mulan. Even you. Any girlfriends or boyfriends of yours that you're currently keeping secret from me?"

"No," Emma says, resolute. "Not currently."

Not ever, is the truth, but that's beside the point.

"Are you asexual? Aromantic? Because that would be okay, too."

"Ruby, I appreciate your understanding and acceptance, but I'm not asexual or aromantic," Emma answers with a sigh. "Seriously. What's with the sudden line of questioning?"

And it's true, she's not either of those. She _wants_ these things, maybe, one day. It's just a matter of combating her own issues and being confident that theirs - whomever they would be - wouldn't fuck her over. Again, her love life is similar to her friendship-life. It took forever to find the right ones, but eventually she did. Being picky worked out for her on this one. Why shouldn't it on the debatably more permanent alternative?

(Besides, why does she even _need_ a relationship right now if she does have her friends?)

-/-

It's not like she doesn't go on dates. It's just that these dates are meant to ensnare potential felons and get them to show up to their goddamn court date. Which is an important distinction, but it at least counts for something, right?

This time, as she's listening to Ryan go on and on about how she's even hotter than she is in her Tinder picture (this, this is why she doesn't date) before she not-so-flippantly points out that he's been embezzling money from his company and screwing over his family.

Ryan's reaction is, understandably, not positive. He runs, bumping the table and getting wine all over her goddamn dress, so she's a little pissed by the time she catches up to him.

"You don't have to do this, okay? I can pay you. I got money," Ryan claims, once she has him cornered in his car.

Emma scoffs. "No, you don't. And if you did, you should give it to your wife to take care of your family."

"The hell you know about relationships, huh?" Ryan blusters.

Emma's mouth sets in a hard line, slamming his head into the steering wheel.

"Nothing," she replies, once he's already passed out.

Which is true. She knows absolutely nothing.

-/-

Tonight was supposed to be the night that her and Killian caught up on some Netflix show or another (Ruby bails, claiming something about having a night alone with Mulan), so after transferring good ol' Ryan to the authorities, she heads straight there.

"You alright?" he asks, sounding mildly concerned when he opens the door. "Your dress is stained."

"Guy knocked over the table, got wine everywhere," she waves him off. "I'm fine. I just hope I can get the stain out."

"I can," Killian assures her, thumbing at the stain at her hip. "Change into some of my sweats - you know where they are - and I'll do it. I seem to remember that you and bleach aren't-"

"The best combination, yeah," Emma finishes begrudgingly. "I know. Thank you."

Once she's changed and he's made his comment about her wearing his outfit more than he does, they settle in on his couch. His arm wraps, snug, around her shoulder and her head settles in the crook of his neck throughout most of the first episode.

The show has some cheesy subplot about two best friends realizing they're in love and she almost rolls her eyes before rethinking it.

She thinks about Asshole Ryan's words, how he - the wife abandoning loser that he was - chided her about knowing nothing about relationships. The words aren't exactly from a reputable source, but aren't they true?

Emma doesn't know the first thing about being in a relationship, about loving someone romantically.

"What is love, to you?" she murmurs into Killian's shoulder, half-asleep and warm - the combination not doing wonders for her judgement. The question is random, out of the blue, but her night and stupid television have the it stuck in her head.

Killian moves his head up from her hair to tilt his eyes down to look at her contemplatively. He doesn't ask why she asks the question. Just sets his chin back on her scalp and runs his hand through her hair as he considers the question. "Ah, there's a bit of debate on the subject, see. But since you asked what it was to me, I'm assuming you're willing to accept my rather biased and specific definition. Love is…"

He hesitates, for a moment, swallowing hard. "...the light feeling in the bit of your stomach when you see the other person smile. It's being able to recognize when they're sad and wanting to do anything you can to make them happy and sacrificing your own happiness to make sure they get it. It's seeing someone at their worst and pushing them to be their best. It's thinking about them when you wake up and longing for their body beside yours when you go to sleep."

She looks up at him, then, and his hand slides down her hair to rest on her waist. Killian is looking at her so softly - always soft, always gentle, always patient - and she can't believe she's never noticed it before. She's never yearned for Ruby, like this, never seen a look like this in her eyes.

Emma is so unused to the feeling of being in love that she didn't realize she already was; it's almost poetic, in a way. Definitely ironic, at any rate.

And that just ruined one of the best relationships - platonic or not - Emma has ever had. She stands up, suddenly, leaving Killian with a baffled expression.

"What's the matter, love?" he asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

Because of course he is, he's a good friend. And that's all he wants to be, because if she knows anything about Killian Jones it's that if he wants something, he'll do whatever he can to get it. He used to say something to that effect - a man (or woman, as Ruby and Emma constantly correct him) unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets - over and over again. If he wanted to be with her, he would've said something by now. And he hasn't.

Why would he? She's a mess, to put it bluntly. A friendless mess when she met Ruby and Killian. Now, she's just a mess who in 28 years is incapable of having a real relationship. Now, she's actually let herself have feelings for someone who is never, ever going to return them.

A great addition to the already stellar record of her love life, she's sure.

"I should go."

He frowns, concerned. "Is everything alright?"

She nods, grabbing her dress from where he's laid it out over a chair and moving to the bathroom. "I should change back into this."

"I told you I'd get the stain out of it for you, Swan, what's wrong?"

Before he has a chance to even finish his sentence, she's already in his bathroom changing. Emma gives him the sweatpants and t-shirt and grabs her purse, already booking it to the front door.

"Emma, just tell me what's the matt-"

"I just really need to get home. I have a early morning. Thanks for having me over!"

He doesn't follow her when she walks out the door. Emma knows she could have handled that a hell of a lot better, but, then again, could she have? What is the right way to reacting to the fact that you suddenly have more than friendly feelings for your best friend?

-/-

Her other best friend interrupts her run the next morning, because of course she does. Emma stops by Granny's to take a breather and because Ruby is seemingly omnipresent she finds Emma chugging down a bottle of water.

"Are you okay?" Ruby asks, sounding a little worried. "You've been acting weird. Killian said-"

"Totally fine," Emma replies quickly, already ready to run away from her next problem in the most literal sense. She doesn't manage to take a step before Ruby stops her, hand snatching Emma's phone from where it's laying on the counter.

Ruby taps the top button and glares at her accusingly when the screen lights up. "You're such a fucking liar. You're listening to Ed Sheeran on a _run_ , Emma. You never listen to Ed Sheeran."

Emma frowns, tugging her headphones out of her ears and sliding her phone away from Ruby's prying eyes. "I was just listening to the radio, is that wrong?"

"Pandora's Ed Sheeran radio, maybe," Ruby scoffs, "Your Last FM account has been more indie crooning than your usual weird old rock, lately. Did you and Killian finally realize you two are madly in love with each other, yet, or what?"

Emma gapes at her for a beat, struggling to come up with a quick, unaffected response. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

She said it a little too forcefully, it sounds more defensive than Killian gets when Emma teases him about the eyelin-

Fuck. She's so fucked. Judging by the raised eyebrows and upturned lips on Ruby, she knows it too.

"It's about damn time," Ruby hums, satisfied.

Emma buries her face in her hands, fingers knotting in the base of her neck. "How did you know? I didn't even know until..."

"I pushed you about the barren state of your romantic life?" Ruby asks rhetorically, finally letting a full blown smile grace her lips. "Yeah. I know."

Emma wants to scream. She already is screaming, internally. "So, you've suspected that I've had feelings for Killian, for...how long?"

"Oh," Ruby shrugs, not even taking a minute to remember, "Since Killian had to call my ass from jail and wouldn't shut up about the _'bloody sharp, astute'_ woman who just got him there. Ridiculously positive words for a woman who just literally took his freedom from you. Then I met you and you were so standoffish with him that it was kind of obvious you were covering something, all defensive and -"

"I'm not defensive!" Emma protests.

Ruby gives her a look. Emma immediately realizes her mistake and sighs.

"Okay, I wasn't defensive in that particular instance," Emma corrects reluctantly. "Just confused why the guy who I just practically dragged to a court date brought his friend with him to...thank me for posting the other half of his bail, or doing my actual job, and invite me to lunch. While his friend repeatedly nagged me until I was virtually forced to comply."

"Please," Ruby scoffs, "you weren't forced. I only had to ask, what, twice? And Killian just had to pout like he always does. Granted, he was pouting because I forced him to go in there and talk to you because he never shut the fuck up about you and I was getting sick of it, but the point still stands!"

"What do you mean 'never shut up about me'?" Emma asks, just registering Ruby's words.

Ruby just gives her an exasperated shake of the head. "You really have no idea, do you?"

-/-

Killian, for a man of his bravado, gets remarkably weak when Emma is involved.

They're at his place, that night. He catches Emma grinning at him, her dimples prominent and her eyes shining after he's said something stupid. Something offhand, attempting to be witty, attempting to get the very response he's getting from her now but he'll be damned if he remembers a bloody word of it. He truly treasures these moments, when he manages to provoke her smiles, her laughs, her most bemused expressions. At first they were few and far between, but now - Killian thinks - they seem to have become more common.

To be quite fair, the first time they met she found him hiding out in his ship desperately evading criminal prosecution, so the bar was humbly set. Anything above using handcuffs would be an ode to elation, by those standards.

(Not that he would protest to them in a different context.)

(And not that she would react to him saying as much with anything aside from a playful elbow to his ribs and a roll of her magnificently jade eyes; he should know, as often as he's pushed it.)

Emma is his friend. It's not that he's entirely pleased with this title, but it's better than nothing from her and he won't push her for more that she - clearly - does not want. The worst type of man is one who acts entitled to a woman because he shows her the smallest amount of kindness. Killian is many things, but he's always believed in good form.

So he takes what he can get. Emma is the type of woman who - when she wants something - won't let anything stand in her way. Strong, resilient, and brutally honest, she is. It's one of the reasons why he turns into such a longing prat around her, even when she was glaring at him while he sniped (wittly - he would claim - though obviously Swan would digress) from the back of her car about what bail skipping was and wasn't.

It's truly just his luck that he manages to fall in love with her. Truly.

When she leaves his apartment in a rush later that night, though, he's a little worried. Worried he's said something, done something (likely he was too on the nose with his feelings - talking about being in love, of all things) and he's finally done it and made her so uncomfortable she never wants to see him again.

So he gives her breathing room, because he knows her well enough by now to know that this is the kind of thing she needs. Emma needs space to think. And if Emma needs something, he's more than happy to give it to her.

It's after a few days without a word from her, though, that he begins to worry. Killian has been waiting for her to make the first move in talking to him, waiting for her to move at the pace she feels most comfortable in. But maybe by doing that he's made her think that he's angry with her.

A frown tugs at his lips at the thought, so he tugs out his phone from his pocket.

"Want company on your latest stakeout, Swan? I have baked goods," he texts around eleven, just like he has so many times before.

Killian doesn't get a reply within the first twenty minutes, so he tries to catch up on some reading. After an hour he starts checking his phone compulsively. When it gets to two in the morning, he's genuinely worried.

He's nearly about to try to find her to make sure she's okay, make sure nothing happened to her over the course of the night (she has a dangerous job, as he's told her who the bloody hell knows how many times), when he realizes there's no need. Her phone sent a read receipt only about two minutes after he sent the text. It's just Emma never replied.

Which is distinctly unlike her.

He frowns, shakes his head, and turns off his phone.

Before promptly turning it back on, reasoning that it needs to be on. Just in case something happened and she needs help. Just in case she changes her mind.

Killian doesn't manage to get much sleep.

-/-

It's a week after she ran out of his apartment like a bat out of hell that he knocks on her door. Emma doesn't want to face him, after that, want to face how she feels or worse, how he doesn't feel.

But he's nothing but persistent and, from the sounds of it and the texts and voicemails that he's sent her, genuinely worried. Emma knows she owes him an explanation, even if it's a bullshit one because she's too cowardly to give him the real one, so she opens the door to face him.

"Why are you avoiding me?" he asks without prompting, the words more matter-of-fact than accusing. "Have I done something wrong? If I have, tell me so I can fix it."

She gapes, for a moment, hearing her heart pound in her ears and - dammit, it'll be hard for her to run away from him in her own apartment.

"I'm just really busy, Killian," Emma reassures him in a way that can't be reassuring in the slightest. "Work has been hectic."

"You may have a superpower, Swan, but I always know when you're lying," he retorts, sounding more frustrated and forlorn than truly angry.

And it's just like her to do this, to drive away one of her only friends because she's afraid of losing them because she's fallen in-fucking-love with them.

(The fucking up part being just like her, it's not like she's had enough friends or lovers for the situation itself to be a common occurrence.)

She frowns, pinching her face, and looks down at the scuffs in her boots while she waits a beat to offer him a reply. "I'm sorry."

He steps forward into her apartment, then, brows furrowed in concern and mouth parted as his hand comes to rest delicately - always delicately - on her shoulder. "For what, Swan?"

Emma can't answer that. "I'm just...a mess. I'm sorry."

"Emma," he murmurs, hand coming up to cup her chin and bring her eyes up to meet his. "What's the matter? What happened?"

This is obviously not helping the situation.

"I can't tell you," she says instead, opting for honestly. "I wish I could. I really do. But I can't."

And she can almost imagine what it could be, if there was a snowball's chance in hell that he felt the same. If she told him that she loved him and he miraculously revealed that he'd felt the same all along and it would be just like it is now except with kisses and hand holding and sex and all of the other stupid shit that's supposed to make up a relationship that she finds herself wanting so damn badly. But this is a fantasy, she knows, and while it may work out that way in the rom coms Ruby loves so damn much, if there's anything that Emma has learned it's that fantasies aren't for her.

His eyes search hers, looking for answers he can't find. "Alright," he murmurs instead, the word barely audible. "I understand."

But no matter what she's told herself she can't have over and over again, that doesn't mean she's ever stopped wanting.

"Promise me you won't make fun of me," she mutters into the collar of his jacket, nose buried where his shoulder and neck meet. "No matter how pathetic this is going to sound."

He leans back to face her, confusion coloring his features. "Never, love. You can tell me anything."

She's going to really fucking regret this.

Emma burrows back into his neck because, at least, this way she doesn't have to directly face him as she says the words and maybe the leather will muffle them enough to somehow lessen the impact. He seems to pick up on that, quickly, and wraps his arms a little more snugly around her.

"I've never…" she takes in a harsh breath, willing herself to continue the sentence that's been hanging over her head for 28 years, now. "I've never been in a real relationship. Boyfriends, girlfriends...none of that."

-/-

She's right - it is utterly ridiculous.

Not because it reflects poorly unto her or somehow means she's unlovable or unwanted or the myriad of other lies she must be currently telling herself if the shame in her tone and the tensing of her shoulders are any indication. It's ridiculous because he can't help but think of the poor fools that failed to make Emma feel loved, feel wanted, feel worthy because she's all of those things. More than she can comprehend, she is.

Unless, that is, she never wanted a relationship. Which is her choice to make, as much as it may pain him, but he's already resolved that he's just fine being her friend and nothing more for as long as she'll let him be.

"Nothing to be ashamed of, Swan," he assures her, because it isn't, "there's nothing wrong with you for not wanting a significant other…"

He trails off as she shakes her head vehemently, her nose skimming along his collarbone with the motion. "No, that's not what I...meant. It's not that I've never wanted one, it's just...things never worked out. Timing and me and them."

"Oh," he says, truthfully relieved and trying desperately to hide it. "That's alright, too."

It's more than alright.

"That's not all," Emma continues, inhaling sharply and moving her head back to meet his eyes.

"Oh," he repeats, hesitantly. He's afraid of what she could say, afraid if it could crush his dreams entirely or -

the other alternative is just wishful thinking at its finest, really.

Killian's hand comes up to rest along the curve of her chin, thumb tracing the line of her jaw. If this is all she can give him, her friendship, he'd be a fool not to take it.

Emma stares at him directly as she says her next words. "I guess I had no idea what loving someone, really, felt like until…"

All he can do is hope, really.

"Until I met you, and then I was too clueless to even realize it for years and when you talked about what it felt like to be in love I-"

Killian can hardly believe his ears. "Wait, what?"

"I'm sorry," she apologizes, quickly, cringing and stepping back. "I'm so, so sorry. I know I'm ruining our friendship and you probably want nothing to do with that, especially after I just told you...that. But Ruby is Ruby and maybe I just hoped, a little, that what she was saying was-"

She can't get any more words out before he kisses her, setting his prosthetic hand on her hip while his other tangles in her hair. Emma stands stock-still, for a moment, before reciprocating fully. Killian pours everything he has into it, saying all the words he's been wishing he could say for years and now he finally, finally knows she might (does) feel the same way.

"Never kissed anyone," she laughs, a little breathlessly, as they part. "Excluding that, of course."

He grins broadly. "Of course. Well, I'd be more than willing to continue to show you the ropes."

Killian presses kisses to the corner of her mouth, to her cheeks, to her jaw, to her forehead, to her nose, to her eyelids. "Any way that I can convey to you how I love you, how I've always loved you and just didn't dare to hope that you could feel the same way about me. I was talking about you, when you asked me what it felt like to be in love, how could it be about anyone else?"

Her eyes are shining, a little. "Sorry it took me so long to catch up."

"Wouldn't change a second of it, Swan."

Emma kisses him, then, sweetly and tenderly and - hell - he could get used to this.

-/-

"Ruby is going to be so smug," she groans, burying her head in his shoulder.

He laughs. "Let her be. Perhaps she's earned it."


End file.
